"cancellation" poems
I like fishing, but dislike boats.
I'm sick of washing, but still wear clothes.
My brother-in-law hates the way I live my life.
My sister keeps the peace, the good little wife.
Mum, I haven't spoken to for many, many, weeks.
Another life, another town, it's solitude she seeks.
My common-law husband is wheelchair bound,
You can't jump puddles with legs that are round.
We own some land, the bank owns the house,
If we miss a payment, they kick us out.
You can't pitch a tent on the corner of the block,
Reading the small print--they own the lot...
Sailing and laundry, painful relations,
Mid-life crisis and petty celebrations.
Watching a loved one severe his spine,
Angry with friends, 'cause they're walking fine.
Another rejection or funds cancellation,
Penning a poem to vent my frustration.
Seeing the darkness in plain black and white,
A smile on my lips--This is my life...
Apr 7, 2010
Apr 7, 2010 at 12:27 AM UTC
for you, we bundle into the car,
the littlest
(half my brother and twice my nuisance)
and the middlest
(14 going on favorite)
the bitterest
(only girl and pen-in-hand)
and the biggestest
(20 years
of bombastic nonsense)
30 minutes and four cornfields later
he'll start.
"i have to ***
"there's a bottle up there, dad."
"dad, i have to ***
"dad."
"dad."
"dad."
and he's going to *** in that ******* bottle
which will inevitably stay in the car for the remaining 8 and a half hours,
sloshing and yellow
too dangerously close to the color of something
you would actually drink.
the two youngest
will get into some sort of argument
some sort of argument that i will intervene in.
"shut up!" he'll say.
"chill out!" i'll shout.
"you chill out!"
and my father and my stepmother
will eye from the front seat
until one of them turns around
("relax, madeline!" sharply).
and then the oldest
like clockwork
will act like he knows more than he does about something
(my father will just chuckle, but i'll begin, "bullsh-" i'll begin, but my stepmother will hiss,
"madeline!" as if i've killed somebody
even though the 8-year-old curses even worse than i do).
he'll make a face at me
and i'll make a face at him.
the littlest will
inevitably
stomp on my seatbelt about 30 times a second
which i will not be able to stand,
and we'll get into an argument which will turn into me
versus
the whole car
(afterwards, much stewing,
and resentfully cranking my ipod up as loud as it will go).
9 hours and 12 thousand cliff-faces later
we'll get there.
we'll make it.
we'll only be
a little worse for the wear.
we will be swept up by our twelve billion aunts
our nine billion uncles
and our three billion cousins,
like we always are.
someday something will be missing.
first it was your back,
and the postponement,
and eventual cancellation of our trip.
then it was your surgeries
(why weren't they working?)
and then it was a series of words i don't understand
stage
inoperable
3
cancerous mass
lung
malignant
radiation
therapy chemo
you may crumple in
on that blackness inside you,
that's eating you alive
one lung at a time,
pushing,
on your back,
until you can't even stand.
the fabric of our family
is plucked by this
disease.
this is my poem, my plea
for you
and for us,
that you not pull into the blackness,
and that you fight the tumors and the tests
and that you win.
Jul 31, 2012
Jul 31, 2012 at 10:42 AM UTC
SpongeBob SquarePants is an American animated television series created by marine biologist and animator Stephen Hillenburg for Nickelodeon. The series chronicles the adventures and endeavors of the title character and his various friends in the fictional underwater city of Bikini Bottom. The series' popularity has made it a media franchise, as well as Nickelodeon network's highest rated show, and the most distributed property of MTV Networks. The media franchise has generated $8 billion in merchandising revenue for Nickelodeon.
Many of the ideas for the series originated in an unpublished, educational comic book titled The Intertidal Zone, which Hillenburg created in the mid-1980s. He began developing SpongeBob SquarePants into a television series in 1996 upon the cancellation of Rocko's Modern Life, and turned to Tom Kenny, who had worked with him on that series, to voice the titular character. SpongeBob was originally to be named SpongeBoy, and the series was to be called SpongeBoy Ahoy!, but these were changed, as the name was already trademarked.
The series was previewed on Nickelodeon in the United States on May 1, 1999, following the television airing of the 1999 Kids' Choice Awards, and officially premiered on July 17, 1999. It has received worldwide critical acclaim since its premiere and gained enormous popularity by its second season. The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie, a feature-length film adaptation, was released in theaters on November 19, 2004, and a sequel is currently in production, with a projected release date of February 13, 2015. On July 21, 2012, the series was renewed and aired its ninth season, beginning with the episode "Extreme Spots".[2][3]
Despite its widespread popularity, the series has been involved in several public controversies, including one centered around speculation over SpongeBob SquarePants' intended ****** orientation. The series has been nominated for a variety of different awards, including 17 Annie Awards (with six wins), 17 Golden Reel Awards (with eight wins), 15 Emmy Awards (with one win), 13 Kids' Choice Awards (with 12 wins), and four BAFTA Children's Awards (with two wins). In 2011, a newly described species of mushroom, Spongiforma squarepantsii, was named after the cartoon's title character.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 4:22 PM UTC
Lo, the drunken ordinance of light through
stained glass, lest to rehash the peopled
white of infinity.
Reach...with what folding passion second
guesses the labor of its love...the warm
footfalls of the sun overlaying the intricacy
of a snowflake...as captions of bone
dissolving upon the motion picture.
Perpetually opening seasons enamored
directionless...cancellation and activation
which is The Spark upon dark...striations
of dreams upon the gyres of galaxies.
Proofs positive of palpable breath, given
and taken in gloried passage.
The cloistered ghost gifted the laughability
of its cloister.
A polish fit for heresy...listen to the
crystalline structure as it bats its eyelashes.
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 10:27 AM UTC
universal ****
**** me so I can give birth to your beautiful slumdog millionare
you know what I mean?
the man wearing pants so tattered it doesn't matter why he's dancing?
I meant that when I said it and I said it when it meant so much to the
king of all castles running in circles around melancholy as if it were
a dog to be chased so catch your own tail, too big to fail, too big to
fail, ah, cleanliness has its way of speech and I will never be rid of
it's cancellation fees, but does that matter oh so much if clouds
understand me better than sand sees chord progressions in winter hymnals
sung by early risen bird from dust and snow?
I didn't think so either.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 2:00 PM UTC
We forgot to make love last night,
yet again like many other nights
we remained distant islands separated by
Bermuda's of bed sheet and air.
The body wasn't very happy
Those thousands of red cells inside you
divided and redivided in anger
Ached and oozed and broke free
from your restless
When I woke up this morning,
I found you lying in a pool of blood.
You decided to go to work
After all it was a Friday and
the long weekend was a week away.
You take too many iron supplements
I fear, one day your body will be so full of folic acid
that it will cry.
We have the Smokies lined up for October
and the Cayman Islands in Christmas
Thinking of planned vacations makes me go to work
every day
Even though I ****
so bad
that I'd rather open a book store
and read all day
and sell a book or two.
My life is still all about you
After all these years
I still couldn't kiss that woman who
asked me on a coffee date at 10 pm by the lake.
or the one who found me cute on our album by the dressing table
You would say "Go ahead , we are not married yet".
I would laugh when I am alone,
thinking of the all the things you say
these days.
You say all the good things in life needs planning
marriage, kids,
buying house on mortgage
convertible sport coupes
vacations in South Pacific.
I find it ironic that I met you on a book store
when I cancelled a TGIF party and had this sudden urge
to buy Alice Munro's short stories.
We were sweet, back then.
Now you lie,
about being anemic on your weekly routine checkup
hide,
your biopsy report soon afterwards;
lie again,
on the reason of your sudden cancellation of the planned vacations for the year end
saying it's work.
Then you disappear, terrify me
Only to come back strands of hair gone from your head
still say nothing,
yet finally disappear saying nothing before I could buy us
the last vacation together.
I regret how much we could have done
together
if we made love more often
my body healing yours
resting, soothing,
purging all the enemies.
On the day when we supposed to be married
I visit the Caymans
laughing alone in a crowded beach
thinking about all the things you used to say these days
having Alice Munro's short stories for company.
Aug 24, 2012
Aug 24, 2012 at 4:03 PM UTC
Upon waking yesterday morn, the temperature was 8 degrees;
cancellation of events and slippery icy roads, disliking winter!
T'was out driving and dealing with the limited visibility; freezing.
Wasn't fun maneuvering usually two lane streets; turned one.
I'm sitting here wide awake and staring at ice crystal windows,
went to bed last night, temperature was frigid sub zero; No joke!
The furnace had a busy night keeping this old drafty house warm.
My cute little budgie who "was" chirping, is now sleeping on perch.
Giving a memory of yesterday brief thought and still find it funny.
Went shopping after losing the debate of exiting a warm vehicle.
Over heard a conversation regarding me, based on the "assumed".
The two ladies(without a doubt) read what's posted on net sites.
Standing in the next aisle, ears slightly alert, hearing my full name.
Should I walk up to say, "hello!" or tell them to mind own business?
Found it amusing and a bit flattering, despite negative words used.
Did they see me enter the store or did they even care that I heard?
If I were indeed the "rumored" witch, I'd melt every inch of snow.
Why did these villagers "presume" I'm holder of necromancer's card?
Defective reasoning of me practicing "voodoo" and casting many spells.
A bit of food for thought; It's one-dimensional and illogical thinking.
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 3:53 AM UTC
I think we're going extinct
I hate to even blink
...
I remember when we were in sync
But things changed
We will act strange over change
Being caged and attached by chains is voguish
Are we hopeless?
Why can we polish our pinky rings
But leave rust on our linkage chains?
Our words don't bond anymore
Our words are shackles
Our words are like crooked spurs
And unbalanced saddles
Yeah It travels
But lies are to be told
Only to smear what we really withhold
I think that we're going extinct
I hate to blink
As my eye lids flicker
More and more existence spills from our mankind
Man-kind
We're turning into the kind of men
Who emotionally melts when we see celebrities
Where's our rectitude?
I think we're going extinct
I hate to blink
Where's my natural woman?
Every time I twitch
More and more she accepts the word *****
And in no time a guy can become exposed to her hips
Where's our morality?
Are we going to expire
All because we create our entire empire with desires?
Desires and thirst that require us to hurt
We smile and we smirk
We loath from good work
We poke at nerves
We drown our minds to swerve
We absorb potion
Only to tranquil our motion
We indulge in copulation
With a stranger
But somehow for consolation
...
We are endangered
We are a few more trends away from complete annihilation
Eradication
Liquidation
Obliteration
Cancellation
Our tendencies are cancerous and if we keep being patient
We will need medication
I don't feel any radiation
To not become subject to our decimation
I think we're going extinct
My instincts tell me that
Though we're a percentage and a contributor to this nation
We are approaching ruination
My instinct senses that I am one of the few who mentions devastation
And if I blink one more time
And if we keep wasting time
We'll be wastage
We
You and I
We'll be ejected from the race
And they'll use a prosthetic ethnic affiliation for our replacement
Can we come together with cooperation
Resisting this operation
May we all stand up
Before they go through with this amputation !
Blink
Lets see
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 5:55 AM UTC
"That's it! I'll take it to the scissors myself!"
Mangled, wrangled, tangled mess,
meandering tendrils coil and cross, clump.
Split ends,
knots so impossibly tied the eagle scout is left bewildered,
sun damage: fried, frizzled, frazzled, frayed.
Broken teeth in a gasping comb,
choking brushes enveloped in the furling mess,
hairspray, fruitless, face it:
(Another) Bad Hair Day.
"That's it! Today's the day!"
The call is made, the appointment scheduled,
you sit and wait.
X's mark the calendar, the day is nigh,
your do's judgement day is at hand.
It's time to settle this.
The day before, you wake up,
absentmindedly getting dressed, drudging through routine,
mirror's the last thing you see.
Crusty eyes suddenly open wide,
as split ends seal and knots unfurl,
sun damage heals and combs sing ceaselessly.
The day is met with a new life,
and the dark days of yore seem like a past life,
as this sunny day seems like all there is.
You laugh at what now appears to be such trivialities,
"Twas a bad hair day! And merely so!"
You allow yourself such a shallow deception.
Your hand grabs the phone, your fingers make the call,
your voice makes the cancellation--
"How could I have been so foolish to resort to such measures?!"
You hang up and scoff at yourself,
a hearty laugh in jest at such hastiness,
tossing and swishing your luscious mane to and fro.
You allow it to slip through your fingers,
on the cusp of the cure,
as the bad hair days truly outnumber the good (you know it to be so).
For the next day will come--
You'll greet the mirror with that heart-wrenching sigh,
in visible anguish at the chaotic mess that encroaches upon your head.
Don't let a good hair day fool you;
make the call.
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 12:13 AM UTC
Open face of demonstration, demanding a new declaration
by excreting exclamations to explain to them
that there is no place for them to lay their head.
You want to erase them, and just replace them again
with a new generation that will provide the revelation
that will spark the alleviation of the victims of trade that had been played by those trained
to wrap chains around them, no longer locked to the ground but running in place nonetheless,
circling around at whatever pace has been set.
Playing house in the devil’s play-set.
Always alluding to what you wanna play next.
It’s time to resign from the contract you signed, pay all of the cancellation fines,
so you can start your own design.
The one that makes you inclined to put time into that
which will impact the things that you blame for losing your mind.
The things, you complain, are a waste of your time,
While you sit around and just hate and drink up a glass of whine.
Open innovation can transform into inspirational collaboration,
which will then send out invitations to the world
to take their own aboriginal exploration which would in turn destroy all awol nations,
thus, breaking the boundaries of potential imagination.
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 8:14 PM UTC
Sad corners
Dark caves
Fumed pits
Dark lagoons
Dead reflections
Caged souls
Black forests
Breeze turning
chilled whistles
Possibility of life
Bigger possibility of ghosts.
True that it
divides a face
Vertical divisions
First choices
Its stoppage
before the lips.
A small tear -
hideout of an
entire negativity.
Horizontal division
is day to day living.
A perfect rule -
we divide in different ways
we cross paths
for a cancellation.
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 8:43 AM UTC
The allegation I believe did not require consideration
It was a gross exaggeration out of desperation
This fabrication, and every sick insinuation,
A complication of a self explanation
Of your deprivation and justification
For your manipulation to suit your temptation,
infatuation with your impersonation
Contamination
Indignation within your contamination,
An accusation of your relation became your revelation,
It was not your reputation anymore under investigation
Starving for salvation, you fed each sick implication
As if each misrepresentation in vindication were a donation
To trade your damnation for his incarceration
As if creation of a demonstration
Desperation for an explanation
For your infatuation with temptation
Deprivation justification was indignation,
Accusation of impersonation -
Realization of manipulation
Salvation from damnation
Clarification of contamination
Allegation as donation
The Incarceration cancellation
The only explanation
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 3:14 PM UTC
too much selfish
too much altruism
too much hate
too much love
too much hope
too much disillusionment
too many expectations
too much erudition
too much ignorance
too little respect
too little condescension
too much selfish
leads to indifference
too much altruism
leads to cancellation of himself
too much hate
leads to war
too much love
leads to obsession
too much hope
leads to utopia
too much disillusionment
leads to resignation
too many expectations
lead to frustration
too much erudition
leads to the illusion of omnipotence
too much ignorance
leads to unconsciousness
too little respect
leads to arrogance
too little compliance
leads to loneliness
what is the right way?
an excessive too much?
an apathetic enough?
maybe
diversities
of our lives
of our lies
of our perceptions of truth
of our perceptions of justice
maybe
our too much
or too little
or enough
are the aequilibrium
of our world?
maybe
the anachronistic belief
of the different awareness
perceived as a resource
not as the tendency
of standardize everything
in a fake flat same
would finally
lead
to peace
May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 5:03 AM UTC
The old heads sell distraction
Different prints and different licks
Concrete beds display the newest fashion
Pick them hearty while declaring dysfunction
Beam another bystander towards electro shock
Tastefully tenacious in it's rearranging
Bars for consumption
The eyes suggest cancellation
Now you declare this space fit for sanity
Now I crumble for chaos
Displaced for a momentary diplomacy
but lines blur inside a mind prone to wandering
Remnants gather for a pre shatter shindig
A bright glow illuminates conviction
How coy these means for destruction
a shell claiming stability
a vessel containing absurdity
Crack seat sofa with the medical magazines
Wait on a number for my neutral reckoning
Diagnostics come free
A proper requiem is not included
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 3:57 PM UTC
Gretchen Rossi knew that she wanted to marry Slade Smiley since the beginning of their relationship. They got together shortly after Rossi lost her fiance to cancer, and Slade has been her rock throughout the years. Gretchen was concerned about getting married too quickly, mostly because of his child support issues. But it sounds like he is more than ready to marry her.
Gretchen Rossi has already cancelled their wedding once. The two had planned the wedding and set the date, but they had to cancel because the date conflicted with previously created events. Rossi could not get married on her chosen date, as many of her friends and family members could not make it out. The two have been engaged for two years.
According to a new Radar Online report, Gretchen Rossi is now canceling her wedding again — and some people believe that these two will never get married. As it turns out, the wedding cancellation has nothing to do with their feelings for one another. Apparently, it is just tough for them to find a date that truly works for everyone.
“They are definitely still getting married and are very much in love,” a source says, adding, “Why else would they do Marriage Bootcamp together? The reason that the wedding has been postponed so many times is not because they have doubts that they are meant to be together, but because they are both working on a lot of projects right now.”
It is no secret that Gretchen Rossi is working hard on her business, Gretchen Christine, and she often posts pictures on Instagram of her work. She has never been in a rush to get married and have a child, and it sounds like she is being reasonable in her planning.
“Gretchen just launched a purse line and she and Slade are pitching several different ideas to various networks for projects that have them both on camera and behind-the-scenes,” a source has revealed, adding, “Lately they have been getting a lot of pressure from their close friends to do it already. Gretchen cannot wait to be Slade’s wife and, when the time is right, they will have their huge lavish wedding. This is what they both want.”
Last year, Rossi opened up about her struggles to have a child. Gretchen shared her journey on The Doctors last year, but she revealed that they had not been successful.
“I always knew that I wanted to be a mother,” Gretchen has previously said, adding, “Slade knew that it was something that was very important to me, but he also told me he had a vasectomy. We just decided that in-vitro fertilization was a much quicker way to make things happen for us.”
What do you think of Gretchen Rossi delaying her wedding yet again?
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Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 3:29 AM UTC
Lost wintry morning on a summers day
He awaits, Dark spectre hides his face from the burning sun.
His gaze, as if that of sightless eyes of a mindless child;
He stands atop ancient fortress, above stormy seas, unable to play.
Under arms below sadistic tower,
In this the castle of the olden one;
We've come so far to deliver all
From decadences' remains of our waste land Kingdom.
Now it seems to no end,
As mine eyes beheld the power,
I knew by Evil we would fall.
Beginning of end of journey,
All blackened across the paths
As expectation of liberation
Becomes expiration, cancellation.
Our strength no better than the sands which blow
Evermore against these walls.
Looking toward violent rays,
Burning as the Dark one casts his shadow
Over me.
Laughing, to live once more I embrace
The blackness of sin I see.
Pagan dreams-are false meanings-
The Master believes me just another fool.
Cold desire-is true meaning-
Through different shades of a fragile mind,
I walked across the barriers beyond which
No mortal ever came.
Doomed child, Blessed siege
****** enigma) takes his life
As he calls out, the last, my name.
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 10:02 PM UTC
Dear you,
God, falling in love with him was a breeze wasn't it? At first it was a smile and a laugh, but soon it was hands and feet intertwined, and before you knew it you'd fallen harder for him than anyone before
At first the late night thoughts don't scare you - they are premature, eager thoughts about when he's going to call you and where your next day will be, when will he kiss you and does he even like you the same way
It seems like every cloud has a silver lining, but please don't forget about the rain, because it can make the silver melt under the weight of every drop
It'll sting and you have to keep away, wear that raincoat everyday and tell yourself you will make it out okay, grab onto his heart harder than ever before and hope that if you fight for it you will win
But here's the thing: nature is nature
If it's meant to rain, baby don't fight it / go with the flow, follow to ebb and tide to the edge of the world and jump off into a galaxy completely your own, forget about everytime he hurt you with another cancellation, another ignoring session, another ******* comment
Float above the stars in a world that is only built for you, without him and without her and without them, because it'll be the only thing that saves you from the nightmares you're having and the daydreams that are becoming worse and worse through every text
False promises and dark lies are his speciality...let the mysterious ways of the world be yours
Flip your hair, wear your cute dress, and catch another eye, because even if he doesn't notice it anymore, ****** you're still worth all of it
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 5:33 PM UTC
Conscience tingles
Fingers wiggle
Sun shines and no one dies
Forgotten seagulls glide toward self-cancellation
Predestined adolescents forge three prong
doubts and fears
Parents watch the past bloom on their dark clouded
offspring
Girls clench their butts
Boys leave their chins untouched
Unfruitful attempts of self sprung self improvement
Read other's stories
You never will learn that lesson from within
Failure rises again
Climbing up into the brain
luring acids to melt the ambition of the
politically slain
Fingers tingle
conscience wiggles
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 1:05 PM UTC
Not utterances of unsolvable contradictions,no
He speaks to me, do you not understand
In incantatory language, intense, so intense
It creates a new heaven and earth
He speaks with magic words
Whose overpowering proof of authenticity
Is in their unawareness of my presence
And would that this be the status of my language
In a world wedded to nothingness this language
Creates a fresh reality that floats free of the body and society
His words are the occupiers of a new
Magical, passionate and transformative speech
That become an absolute singularity in the mind
Where time is stilled in cancellation to a complement
Forms the magical realm of reciprocal imagination
Aug 7, 2012
Aug 7, 2012 at 3:12 PM UTC
A cancellation of something, is (generally speaking) progress to enlightenment, because it's meant to "congress" the very supposedly different features that literally...
SCREAMS OUT OF CONTROL!
(But only, when something doesn't officially go its own way).
However, in time, things do get better.
Because they must!
It's just simply...HAST TOO!
After all, it's a very "primal" influential (on a need-to-know basis), before something truthfully "triggers" the very (notion of surprise) in the "generalized" form...that is a natural part of life that stems from the very pit in one's own gut.
Then at which time SCREAMS back in response, (from the very first response that triggered its very own local message).
BREAKING the very so-called "alignment" (when evolving yourself directly straight-out from under the control of your very own still processing learning curb), that keeps you (too "rooted" in your very own self) from that very essential...cancellation itself.
But alas, things aren't as focused (as they once were...) Now aren't they...?
That's entirely against the point of "truer" interests that begin too BASH one another over such silly "squabbles".
Something that truly masks the very freedom of what was (once out of control)! That is now breathing in this very newer *** of fresh air.
This very newer *** of fresh air is a little "musty". And could become HEAVILY influenced, because of its very own odor type smell...it truly gives off....
But that's only because things have been stashed away and broken down and covered up for far too long.
Meaningfully, making it the obvious result of the very cancellation holding you back from simply moving forward with a very "progression for enlightenment" itself.
Simply put, once you let go of the too many "attachments" that have been stringing you along in such a predictable simulation for an incredibly (sort of "dire" need) to become this WIDENED long-drawn-out frame of time...
That's what starts to truly speculate its very own nature.
Also, when things start to take a turn for the "interesting kind".
Basically, your no different from anyone else.
However, that doesn't mean your own "sense of liberty" (in your very self) doesn't become prey to even truer mindsets...that'd have you "scrambling" out of sync with what truly matters in your very ("hour of need").
Progress at the ending type of spectrum for enlightenment, is the such "divinity" of one's own (preciously "engaged") sufferable type of "repressed" comings and goings (among the very goings on), that then (in the very truest sense of the word) limit your actions to such "formidable...consequences."
Either way, a cancellation such as this, will harbor the very "harbinger"...that is the "progress of enlightenment" itself!
Mar 28, 2021
Mar 28, 2021 at 2:20 PM UTC
I moved my bed today
to another corner of
the room and as it went
a small business card
was revealed and
written on it was
"Nolan Fillman has an appointment with
Eric Schlanger, L.C.S.W.,
Tues, 11-22-11 at 5:00 P.M."
And I remembered what I did that day.
I talked to Eric about my life
about how I wanted to **** myself
and about how my grades were
slipping and about how alcohol
tasted better when I was drunk and
about how I hated myself.
He told me that he was my friend.
And that I could call him
instead of killing myself
or getting drunk.
And later that night I did.
When my father yelled at
me about my
grades
I called Eric and told him I felt
like drinking and
that I hated my father.
He talked to me.
I can't remember about what.
I think it was about a trip
he took to
Spain the
summer before.
He and his wife had spent two weeks there
and they ate good food
and met good people.
I slept well that night.
And I want to call Eric Schlanger, L.C.S.W. right now.
I want to call him and have him tell me about Spain.
His number is written on the card right under where
it says TELEPHONE.
And I remember where his office is.
On Spring Street, Suite C2.
But I have to give 24 hours notice to avoid a late cancellation fee.
And it's been eleven months.
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 11:51 PM UTC
My tears dress for cowardice.
They are always up on my eye lids ready to ashame me.
“the rain is about to befall!”
the cads care too much.
All these drownings of heart break paint me ****
you dignified it in sentences of two. “you cry often. You cry in front of everyone.”
you persuaded me about our fragile hearts.
Filled with softness and poetry.
“but that's our friend”
it got ingrained in my memory.
I trace it with my fingers in solitary. “in this harsh, cruel world.
Kindness is the greatest boon to have”
my lips curl into a warm smile. Though these memories don't come often.
They are trapped away in a dull corner of mind yet they come in time. Just how our paths collide
Messing up fate's tricks and twists
Those messed up calls,
messages built up on one and other, cancellation couldn't quite reach for our comfort with each other.
Sep 12, 2025
Sep 12, 2025 at 9:12 AM UTC
There is something in the dark room
of Russia. Some of the dead were among
the "Christmas trees" to the east of China
and Brazil. She used the weaknesses
of Hannah. For many of the city's words,
keep the streets out of the sun; healthy
lifestyle, animals, almonds and anthropogenic
foods for demigods or mothers
in the Italian language, and her needle legs,
the blue uranium blues, the north and the omega,
the angels of the Gentle Glory.
The West and the Cat of St. Mary,
a collection of notices and laws
that steal the cancellation of my friend.
Happy, Brazil, Italy, China,
Good Christian Brochure, Paris, France
and Roma Church in The Netherlands,
Uganda, Nigeria, Publishing in New York.
The Good African Aristotle Sister's
General Tousfa Feet, Osea, Gabriel,
Gabriel and Cindy, French, French Christian
Samuel, Jordan, Jordan, Charlie: Also Saudi
Arabia - Christianity? Home, India,
Bahamas 2, Charles John, Patricia Bolivia,
Julia, China, Youth, Japan, Japan.
Well, the French ceilings once stood
in a field. Swing elements in the window?
English coffee mobile team, chemistry
and well-known beach. Gold Bazaar,
Africa Aussie-Byzantine Gold Bazaar
Germany Germany Germany Germany
Germany For many years the title
of Germany in Germany Ma
'the azim is king. Outside
or out in Russia. Blue, Blue,
Blue, Italy, China, Good
Christian, Washington, Lutey,
Goals and California.
Nerds Churchin The Netherlands,
Uganda, Netherlands I am a friend
of my friend Gabiolia or Nigeria.
Academic Press york, new. Gabriel
Quita, French, French, Christian
Samuel Jordan, Charlie: Alps,
Saudi Arabia - School, India,
Bahamas 2, Charles John,
Patricia Bolivia, Japan. Never,
on the roof or in French.
Write these members clearly?
English coffee mobile team,
chemistry and well-known beach.
Robert Robertson, Sushi
and Christian Black male United
States Biowebstore Miami Star Cricket
Green Bright Wedding Mother's Day
Mother's Day Mother's Day
Germany Germany Hot temper -
American American Black Black
Muslim Brotherhood Bissau Africa
Africa Green Gold Terror German
German Blood Germany Germany
Germany and many cool cold years
in Germany in two years, wild
animals and animals are not king
of the western king in Jamaica.
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 6:38 AM UTC
What if tomorrow
cancelled.... Late?
Without any notice and
cheated.... Fate?
The predetermined tasks
would.... Show,
At early dawn, with no place
to.... Go.
And they would wander
all.... Around.
And search a many
stomping.... Ground.
And join up with a
random.... Soul,
To achieve their
given.... Goal.
Fate no longer to guide
and.... Hence,
They would now just be
simply.... Coincidence.
Jul 4, 2010
Jul 4, 2010 at 7:04 PM UTC